Hiko Gaiden
by thelazyreader
Summary: On a clear summer night, Hiko reminiscences about the past as he sips sake under the starlit sky. How did Kenshin's master become who he was?
1. I: Reminiscence under the stars

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or any of its characters. All I own is the freedom to imagine things related to them.

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**Chapter I: Reminiscence under the stars**

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A/N: This fic contains a flashback within a flashback. I've used an X------X marker to indicate the beginning and end of the first flashback and an XXX------XXX marker for the second one.

"The sky is clear today."

Said Hiko Seijuro XIII, as he calmly observed the sun sinking over the distant horizon.

Sipping sake by the lake shore and gazing at the sunset in the cool evenings had become his favourite pastime in the summer.

He contemplated the scenery unfolding before his eyes as the last rays of the closing sunset dyed the landscape in a reddish-amber hue. As they receded, he looked up at the darkening sky to see millions of stars twinkling down at him. Without any clouds to obstruct them, all the celestial constellations were visible in their full splendour.

For Hiko, this moment felt oddly nostalgic. He could remember a similar evening, many years ago, when he savoured his first taste of sake under the starlight.

He had been a different person then; a proud, haughty and arrogant young man in the springtime of his youth. Though if his baka deshi were to be believed he still retained many of the same qualities...

He spotted the crescent moon glowing among the stars. "Times change. People change. The only thing that doesn't change is the moon." he mused, taking in its familiar radiance.

_Ten years... has it really been so long ...Shishou?_

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The red sun descended over the horizon, bathing the landscape in its dimming light. As the long summer day drew to a close, all seemed calm, save for a lone mountaintop where two robed figures clashed.

One was a man of normal height, dressed in robes vaguely reminiscent of a priest's garb. The other was a muscled giant, clad in a plain gi and hakama. The battle-cries of the two combatants and the clashing of their swords drowned out the noises of the chirping birds and insects all around them. Their blades took on a crimson glow in the light of the setting sun.

"RYU TSUI SEN!"

The robed man leaped high into the air and flipped over, positioning his sword above his opponent's head for a downward strike.

"RYU SHOU SEN!"

The giant leaped upwards to face his opponent's attack, raising his sword horizontally, edge-up, with his free hand supporting the blade near its tip.

The smaller man smiled briefly as he descended. He had noticed a flaw in his opponent's grip. Instead of clashing swords head on and meeting strength with strength, he swung his katana downwards in a wide arc, knocking the large man's weapon out of his hands.

Taking advantage of the giant's surprise, he landed both feet on his chest and placed a hand over his shoulder for balance. As they both descended, he raised his sword for a second strike. But before he could attack the large man lashed out in a forceful uppercut to his assailant's side. The robed man leaped off his opponent, rolling with the punch, and both men landed gracefully on their feet.

For a few moments, the two swordsmen sized each other up, panting with exhaustion.

"You seem tired, Shishou." The larger man said finally, his long brown hair drenched with sweat. "Maybe we should call it a day?"

"Don't get cocky with me, young man." The other one warned, not in the least intimidated by the fact that his opponent was nearly twice his size. "You're the one who'll be asking for a reprieve soon." He adjusted his glasses and gazed at his opponent analytically, as if seeking out an opening for his next attack. Seeing his hesitation, the large man went on the offensive.

"RYU SOU SEN!"

He lunged at his master with a series of successive swings aimed all over his body.

In a spilt second, the latter switched to a defensive stance, betraying no signs of surprise. He avoided the first two blows, pulled his sheathed wakizashi from his obi to parry the third, then leapt forward and struck the young man squarely in the collar bone with the hilt of his katana. "RYU SOU SEN - GARAMI!" Just as he struck, he felt the flat of his victim's nodachi descending upon his shoulder with an audible thump. Both fighters fell to the ground.

"A tie. Not bad, Kyouta." The middle-aged man said, smiling through clenched teeth as he rubbed his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm incredible, aren't I?" Kyouta grinned weakly. "But I was holding back. Otherwise I'd have beaten you, Shishou!"

Hiko Seijuro XII rose first, shaking his head fondly at his boastful pupil. "You are indeed incredible...incredibly vain that is." Then he stared up at the sky. "It appears that there will be a clear sky tonight."

Kyouta followed his master's gaze. Surely enough, he couldn't see a single cloud in the summer sky. Though the sun was still visible behind the distant hills, the sky had darkened enough for the glimmer of stars to become visible.

"It is time for a respite. Come." Kyouta followed his master to the stone bench in the courtyard of the abandoned Shinto shrine that they called home.

Hiko retrieved his white cape from the bench and pulled out a leather jug and two large cups from its folds. When they were seated, he filled a cup and handed it to Kyouta.

Kyouta stared at the contents. "Shishou, this is..."

"Sake." His master finished. "And no ordinary sake either. It is a special vintage that is available only once in five years."

"But Shishou, I thought you disapproved of such..er, vices?" With some consternation he remembered the number of times his master had beaten him up for trying to sneak some into the shrine.

Hiko burst out laughing, something Kyouta found disconcerting given his normally stoic nature. He removed his sweaty glasses and wiped them against his robe, shaking his head. "Kyouta, what gave you that idea? I may read scriptures and recite prayers, but I am by no means a monk. Sake consumed in moderation will do you no harm. Drink up."

Kyouta looked down at his cup and slowly took a sip. "It tastes nice."

Hiko took a sip from his own cup. "Spring brings cherry blossoms to comfort you; the summer, stars; the harvest moon in fall, and the powdered snow in winter. All of these things, and the promise of them, is what makes sake taste delicious." he mused.

He turned to Kyouta. "Of course, I'm not sitting here having this drink with you solely to introduce you to the virtues of sake. Today is an important day for both of us."

Kyouta gave his master a questioning glance. What was so important about this day? They had just sparred as usual.

Hiko stroked his beard thoughtfully. When he spoke, it seemed as though he was measuring every word. "Kyouta, you are seventeen years old now. By Western reckoning, you have become a man, though by our standards you already achieved genpuku two years ago. Nevertheless I had originally planned on waiting another year before making this decision..."

Kyouta tensed. Could his master be saying what he thought he was?

Hiko appeared to have read his thoughts. "Yes. Today, or rather tonight, I am going to pass the succession technique of Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryū to you." He paused to let the surprise register on his pupil's face, then continued. "And should you master it, you truly will have become the greatest swordsman in Japan, instead of merely boasting about it."

Kyouta felt a mixture of apprehension and excitement. "Tonight? Meaning... now?"

"Yes. Now." Hiko stood up and walked back to the grassy compound where they had trained earlier. Kyouta followed, still caught in surprise.

"First, a brief review of kenjutsu." Hiko began. "You know about the nine vital points of the human body. In all the schools of kenjutsu there is no killing technique that does not aim for one of those points. Naturally the defensive stances were developed to correspond to these same nine points." Slowly, he drew his katana. "In the Hiten Mitsurugi school there is even a technique named the Ryu Sou Sen that targets all nine points randomly."

Hiko knew the technique well. It was his favourite.

"But as you know from experience, the Ryu Sou Sen is only effective against opponents who are slow to react. This is because it does not target all the points simultaneously. So with sufficient skill or speed, it can be parried." Hiko raised his sword in the middle stance.

"Stand still." he instructed Kyouta. "Even the slightest movement could cost you your life."

The next moment, he vanished from Kyouta's sight and he felt his body being touched several times in very rapid succession.

Hiko halted behind him, and Kyouta looked down to see nine small cuts at various points on his body.

"If you move with the Hiten Mitsurugi Godspeed and strike all nine points simultaneously there is no possibility of defence." his master explained. "This is the Kuzu Ryu Sen."

Kyouta's mouth hung open in awe, then quickly closed when he realised how stupid it made him look. Now he felt a rising sense of annoyance at his vulnerability. Even with his superhuman speed and strength, he could have done nothing to stop that attack. This was the Hiten Mitsurugi succession technique?

"Now it's your turn." Hiko smiled. "I showed you how it is done. Now try it yourself. Let's test your Kuzu Ryu Sen against mine."

Kyouta tried to recall his memory of his master's attack. He had always been skilled at analysing things, and soon he had all the movements mapped out in his head.

**"KUZU RYU SEN!"**

The two cries rang out in unison as master and student charged at each other faster than the untrained eye could see. As the two forces met, there was a flurry of clashing blades.

It ended with Kyouta knocked down to his knees. His master stood before him, panting. Hunched over, his head was barely higher than that of his tall pupil.

"It wasn't executed perfectly." he explained, seeing the surprise on his pupil's face. "You weren't concentrating hard enough. Consequently, the nine strikes were not performed instantaneously. That's why my strikes were able to parry yours and get through to you." Noting the disappointment in Kyouta's eyes, he added, "But it's all right. I didn't expect you to get it right on the first try. Do not waste time thinking about getting all the strikes right. Just do it. Any time gap between two successive strikes greater than a tenth of a second will result in failure."

Once again, they prepared themselves. This time Kyouta's eyes were narrowed in concentration. _I've waited six years for this. I **will **master the technique now. Don't think...do._

**"KUZU RYU SEN!"**

This time Hiko was knocked off his feet. He landed several feet away with a loud crash.

"Shishou!" Kyouta cried out, his momentary exhilaration turned to fear. He had not considered that the duel would have such an outcome, considering that they had both used the same technique. He should have suppressed his strength.

Gingerly, Hiko picked himself up. Though the pain was evident on his face, he gave his pupil his usual gentle smile. "I'm all right. Just bruised." He sheathed his sword and picked up his glasses, which had been knocked off during the exchange.

But Kyouta's shock at his victory still remained. "But how-"

"Even with the same Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryū and the same technique, if the fighters differ the force will be different too. In random attack techniques, it's your upper body strength that counts, and in charging techniques it's your weight." Hiko explained. "In both respects, you are overwhelmingly my superior. So my Kuzu Ryu Sen cannot beat yours head on. Well done, Kyouta. You've surpassed me."

Kyouta's concern turned to relief, soon replaced by joy and pride. He had mastered the succession technique. His training was complete. _Now I'm a master too._ He drew himself up, posing for no one in particular. He imagined wearing a long cape and strutting through town, addressed with respect by everyone. _Master Kyouta. I like the sound of that._

Hiko observed his pupil's pretentious actions with a bemused grin. "Not so fast." he said. "You can't call yourself 'Master anything' yet. There's still one more technique left."

Kyouta frowned, annoyed at the interruption. What more could there possibly be?

"The greatest secret of the Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryū," his master continued in a low voice. "The succession technique, the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki."

As these words registered, Kyouta felt his face reddening in embarrassment. "You mean the Kuzu Ryu Sen isn't the succession technique?" _Then all that pride and jubilation and magnificent posing was for nothing?_

Hiko's eyes twinkled. "Is that what you thought? I never said anything of the sort."

It was infuriating how a boy...well, man of Kyouta's stature, talent and charisma was continually humbled by this comparatively plain and diminutive old man.

Hiko went on. "The Kuzu Ryu Sen wasn't originally created for real combat or training. It was conceived as a step in passing down the succession techniques, as a test. To learn the succession technique, first you begin with the Kuzu Ryu Sen. If you can beat the Kuzu Ryu Sen of the previous master using the succession technique, your mastery in the secrets of the school is complete."

Kyouta was puzzled. "What can possibly surpass a technique that attacks all nine vital points simultaneously?" _Apart from another Kuzu Ryu Sen..._

Hiko only smiled in reply. "You've learned from me well enough to find the answer yourself."

Kyouta carefully analysed the possibilities. _The Kuzu Ryu Sen offers no chance for defence or escape. So the only way is to strike down the user before he has a chance to perform it._

So the answer was...."Battojutsu." he thought aloud, pleased with his genius.

"That is correct." said Hiko plainly. "Only a lightning fast battojutsu could strike quickly enough to defeat the Kuzu Ryu Sen before it even began. However," he added, "the Kuzu Ryu Sen is a Godspeed technique. In order to counter it, the battojutsu must also be performed at Godspeed. That is the true nature of the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki."

Kyouta's face resumed its confused expression. "But Shishou, battojutsu can't be used with Godspeed. We both know that." he said matter-of-factly. _The Hiten Mitsurugi Godspeed is based on the principle of instinctively reading your opponent's ki and body language and moving on your feet to counter them before they act. But as battojutsu is performed from a stationary position, this cannot be done except by altering the speed and direction of the blade._

Hiko shook his head. "What we know, Kyouta, is subjective and changes with time. I've told you enough. The answer lies in your mind. When your mind is ready, your body will be as well. The Hiten Mitsurugi succession technique is not something that is taught but something that the student must realise for himself in a test against his master."

He drew his sword. "Shall we begin?"

Then suddenly, the katana fell from his grip. With an exclamation, he clutched his wrist and hunched over in pain.

"Shishou!" All thoughts of mastering the Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryū vanished from Kyouta's mind. "Are you all right?" Perhaps his Kuzu Ryu Sen had hurt his master worse than it had seemed. He felt a pang of guilt. _I should have held back..._

"Don't blame yourself." said Hiko, wincing painfully. "It's just that the strain of using the Kuzu Ryu Sen three times in a row, on top of everything else we did today, has cramped my muscles somewhat." He looked at Kyouta apologetically. "I'm afraid we'll have to put off the succession technique till tomorrow morning." Slowly, he bent down to pick up his sword and limped back to the stone bench where his cape lay folded.

The succession technique was far from the surface of Kyouta's mind. He was not convinced by Hiko's explanation. He had not seen his master in such a bad state for a long time. Although he had seemed weaker and more prone to tiredness in recent months...

"Shishou," He began apprehensively. "You're not well, are you?"

Hiko turned to face him as he re-adjusted his cape around his shoulders. "I suppose there is no point in hiding it from you any more." He smiled ruefully. "The reason I decided not to wait another year before teaching you the succession techniques is because I wasn't sure I would still be able to perform them by then."

Kyouta's eyes widened. "Why not?" What could be wrong with his master's health?

"The Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryū," Hiko began wearily, "is by its very nature a superhuman sword art. It causes tremendous strain on the bodies of those who wield it. As such it is ideally suited to those who possess a perfect physical constitution," he gestured towards Kyouta. "a wide, muscular frame. Like yours."

He sighed wistfully. "Unfortunately, I was not so well endowed. My physique was a little above average at best. That did not stop me from learning and applying the techniques. However, a lifetime of practising the Hiten Mitsurugi gradually took its toll on my health. Add to that the many injuries I have accumulated over the years," he unconsciously rubbed his left shoulder, where Kyouta knew lay a massive scar. "some of which never fully healed, and it was only natural that my body would eventually reach its breaking point. Muscles atrophying, joints weakening..."

Kyouta gaped at his master, shocked by the confession.

Kyouta had always been unnaturally large for his age. As such it was no surprise that within a few years into his apprenticeship he had dwarfed his master in both size and strength. That made it all the more embarrassing how easily the comparatively diminutive master of Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryū could trounce him in a fight. For the arrogant, brash and (according to his master) narcissistic Kyouta, training under Hiko Seijuro XII was a humbling experience.

But in the past year, things had changed. More and more of their sparring matches ended in draws or even in victories for Kyouta. It seemed to him that his master was struggling harder to win as time passed. He had earlier vainly attributed that to his own growing physique and skill. Now he knew that wasn't all.

"Shishou, couldn't something be-"

"No." Hiko cut him off. "Although I do not have any regrets about it, it is too late to do anything. I am 43 years old now. In another three years, maybe four, I will no longer be able to use the Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryū. I must fulfil my duty to you as your master before that happens."

Hiko stared at him in shock and concern. "Shishou-"

"In any case," Hiko continued, "I know now that you are ready for the technique. I was only worried about your mental preparedness. As a swordsman, you trail behind me only in skill and experience, and those will come with time. Physically you have already surpassed me in every way imaginable-"

"But I haven't." Kyouta interrupted. He loved being praised, but as humble as Hiko was, hearing his master belittle himself thus was painful. "You still tie or beat me all the time-"

"Only because of those 16 kan training weights you always wear underneath your clothes." Hiko reminded him. "I, on the other hand, have to take off my cape in order to fight you. How embarrassing..." He shook his head. "This weighted cape was worn by all those who bore the name of Hiko Seijuro in order to control the power of Hiten Mitsurugi in times of peace. It was taken off only during wartime. And here I am shedding it for routine sparring..."

He stood up and started walking back towards the main shrine building. "Night has fallen. I will prepare supper."

He paused briefly and turned back see Kyouta still standing there, lost in doubt. "Use the night to search your mind and see if you are ready. Know this: the course of your life shall be determined by tomorrow's test. If you fail, it will be forfeit." With this final warning he continued towards the building, showing no trace of his earlier limp.

Kyouta turned his attention to the stone bench and saw that his master had left the sake jug behind. He made his way to it and poured himself a cup. It tasted sweet. He sat down, cup in hand.

For a long time, Kyouta sat beneath the stars, taking an occasional sip of sake, lost in thought. He didn't bother going back for supper. Food was the farthest thing from his mind, and in his present state he wouldn't be able to work up an appetite even if he tried. For now, the sake was enough.

Was he ready? For six years, Kyouta had eagerly awaited a day like this, a day when his training would come to fruition. But now that it had arrived, he felt less sure. He gazed upwards, as if seeking his answers from the starry sky. He idly picked out the various constellations. _OoGuma, KoGuma, Sasori, __Katakana..._

He sighed. This was getting him nowhere._ Search my mind... well, Shishou always says that when searching for something, it's best to start at the beginning..._

As the night wore on and the moon rose higher, Kyouta's mind drifted to the past, back to the day he began his life as a swordsman. _Come to think of it, it was a clear sky that night as well..._

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Glossary:

Baka deshi: Idiotic pupil.

Gi and hakama: Traditional upper and lower body garments worn by Japanese men.

Katana: Most commonly known type of nihontō(Japanese sword), with a blade length of 70-73cm.

Wakizashi: A 'side sword', usually worn alongside the katana. Has a similar design but a shorter blade length of 30-60cm. Together with the katana, it formed the daishō of a samurai, representing his status and personal honour.

Nodachi: A two-handed great sword with a blade length greater than 90cm, usually worn on the back. Hiko Seijuro XIII/Kyouta's sword is never described in the manga and anime, but is most likely a nodachi from its length. However, thanks to his own size, he wears and wields it like a regular katana.

Shishou: A respectful way of addressing one's teacher. Equivalent to 'Master'.

Genpuku: Traditional coming-of-age for Japanese boys. In medieval Japan, a swordsman was said to attain genpuku at the age of 15.

Kan: A traditional Japanese measure of weight. 1 kan = 3.75kg(approx.)

OoGuma: The Japanese name for Ursa Major/Great Bear.

KoGuma: The Japanese name for Ursa Minor/Little Bear.

Sasori: The Japanese name for Scorpius.

Katakana: The Japanese name for Andromeda. Not sure if these same names were used back in mid-19th century Japan, though.

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Author's note: I've actually been plotting this fic for over a month. The anime and manga say absolutely nothing about Hiko Seijuro's past, and the idea of a backstory for Kenshin's master has always intrigued me. What kind of man was Hiko Seijuro XIII? I originally intended this as a flashback chapter in my other fic "The Birth of a Swordheart" that details Kenshin's days with Hiko and had already written about two-thirds of it, but seeing the incredible length it had reached while typing, along with the fact that Kenshin only makes a cameo appearance, I decided to save it for a separate fic later. Due to various reasons I have not found the time or the will to finish it in the past month. Now I'm finally close ot completing it. Due to the length and the fact that it's still incomplete I'm releasing it in multiple chapters. Hopefully I'll have the remaining ones out by the end of the week.

For those who are interested in such things, I'll be including a complete character description for both young Hiko and his master in a separate 'chapter' at the end of this fic. Creating them and their story was a detailed process that took months of thinking and reasoning. It's long enough to fill an entire chapter, so I can't include it all here. For now, I'll reveal two things. One, that Hiko's original name 'Kyouta' was created by combining the word 'Kyou', which means 'strength', with the suffix 'ta', which adds the adjective 'great'. It probably doesn't sound very authentic, but I have very little knowledge of Japanese and just wanted to come up with a nice sounding name that meant 'great strength'. Credit goes to **raberbagirl** and **Scarred swordheart** for helping me come up with the name. The second thing is that I wanted Hiko's master to contrast him in the same way as he contrasted Kenshin.

EDIT: I lengthened the opening fight scene between Hiko XII and Kyouta to illustrate the differences in their fighting styles. I like to think that each of the 13 Hikos had their own personal variations of the Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryū. I envisioned Hiko XII as the kind of fighter who would use his opponent's own strength against them and take advantage of flaws in their technique, similar to the principles of Ai-kiken. On the other hand Hiko XIII seemed to me to be the kind of guy who'd make more use of brute force(being superhumanly strong) and incorporate unarmed combat, to some extent, into his style(like the kick he gave Kenshin when they sparred). I haven't been able to emphasise these differences as much as I'd like, though. I also gave Hiko XII a pair of glasses. I thought it would suit his more gentle and thoughful(as intended by me anyway) nature.

PS: Please Review.


	2. II: The Blood drenched past

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**Chapter II: The Blood-drenched past**

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It was a clear night. Countless stars glittered dimly in the dark sky. The crescent moon hovered forebodingly over the earth, like a reaper's sickle. It was a harbinger of times to come.

Underneath, all was quiet in the forest, save for the very centre, where a cluster of small fires lay amidst the darkness. Many small noises could be heard around them.

At the southernmost corner of the camp, a young boy sat against a tree, moaning slightly as he cradled his right arm. It hung limply in a sling, wrapped in bandages.

"Listen to you. You sound like a mule with all that moaning and groaning." He looked up to see another boy approach him from the direction of the campfires. This boy was slightly taller and broader, and was carried two large wooden bowls in his hands. A bow and quiver were slung over his back. "Here's dinner. I get the feeling all that whining was just an excuse to get a special dish, eh, Kojiro?." He handed him a bowl of plain rice and miso. "Too bad. It's just the usual."

"Shut up. It's no thanks to you." Kojiro shot back, receiving it in his left hand. "You're part of the reason I hurt it, remember?" Immediately, he regretted his harsh comment.

His companion's face fell. "I know. I'm sorry. I know it's my fault."

Kojiro reproached himself for his tactlessness. "Sorry, Kyouta. I shouldn't have blamed you. It's just that this damn arm hurts so much I can't even sleep properly. Puts me in a bad mood." Seeing his friend brighten up slightly, he tried to lighten the mood. "If only I had a body like yours. You're two years younger than me and you're already bigger than I am. What's your secret, Kyouta?"

At this Kyouta drew himself up and beamed proudly. "There's no secret. A few of us have it and most of us don't. I just happen to be one of the _elite_ among men."

Kojiro snorted at his vanity. "The elite, huh? What does that make me?" _And you're not a man._

"My underling. Just follow after me and I'll treat you nicely."

Their conversation was interrupted by a man's voice calling out behind them. "Takagi-san." Kyouta addressed him as he came closer, a little disrespectfully(it should have been 'sempai').

"Our tagalong kids look like they're having a good time." he observed cheerily. "How's it healing, Kojiro?"

Kojiro tried to move his arm out of its sling and winced. "Fine, I think. But it'll be a while before I can fight again. Sorry for being so careless, sempai."

"Don't be." He shook his head sadly. "You kids shouldn't even have to be part of this."

"It's our choice, Takagi-san." Kyouta replied sternly. "Speaking of which, have Akira-sempai and Kaneda-sempai come back yet?"

"No, the scouts aren't back yet." Takagi replied nonchalantly. "But there's nothing to worry about. There's no way the Shogunate will find our camp here in the middle of the forest."

"No, not unless someone told them where to find us." Kojiro said in agreement. At these words, Takagi tensed a little. Kyouta though he could feel unease coming from his posture.

Suddenly, they heard a commotion from the other end of the campsite. Looking at the source of the noise, they could see torches glowing in the distance.

"Why are they lighting so many torches at this time of the night?" Kyouta wondered aloud. "That could give away our position to the samurai!"

Takagi had an odd expression on his face. "Kids," he instructed them, "Don't move."

Both boys looked at him in confusion. "What's wrong, sempai?" asked Kojiro.

Takagi's eyes narrowed. "I think the Bakufu are here."

The boys gasped. Then they heard angry noises, and the next moment several tents burst into flames. The campsite was in total pandemonium. Kyouta could see people running blindly and could hear the clashing of blades and anguished yells everywhere.

Swiftly, Kyouta picked up his bow and quiver and Kojiro made a motion towards his axe. But Takagi stopped them. "Don't. Just stay here with me. I'll protect you."

Kyouta stared at him in shock. "But we can't just stand here and let everyone get slaughtered in their sleep!"

"If you enter the fray, you'll be killed before you even know it." Takagi snapped back. "And Kojiro's in no condition to fight." He peered at the nearing flames. "It's a good thing we're at the southern end of the camp."

Kyouta could only stare in disbelief. How could Takagi behave so coldly towards his comrades? Unless...

"Takagi-san," Kyouta began suspiciously, "You act like you knew all this was going to happen. Is there something you've been keeping from us?"

Takagi gazed at him uncomfortably. "You were always a pretty bright kid, Kyouta."

Kyouta opened his mouth angrily, but was interrupted by a cruel voice.

"Well, well. If isn't our little mole. In the flesh." They looked up to see several samurai in full body armour approaching them. The owner of the voice stood in the forefront. He appeared to be their leader. He wore a long silken jacket over his uniform. His face held a malevolent grin.

"Mikado-sama," Takagi addressed him, bowing as he approached. "I fulfilled my end of the deal. So please..."

Kojiro glanced between them with disbelief. Kyouta scowled. "So that's how it is. You're the one who told them where our camp was. You betrayed us, Takagi!" he spat venomously.

Takagi winced at the accusation. He gave the boys a pleading look. "I had no choice, boys. They would have hunted us down eventually. We had no hope of overthrowing the daimyo. And I still have a family to look after. You understand, don't you, Kojiro?" He extended a hand towards the wounded boy, who refused to meet his eyes. Kyouta quickly set an arrow into his bow and aimed it at him. "Don't you dare touch him, traitor!" he warned. Some of the samurai tensed.

Takagi stepped back. "I made a deal with them that would allow me to start over again." he continued. "And I pleaded with them to spare your lives as well. I promised you that I would protect you, didn't I?"

"Who cares?" Kyouta replied savagely. His hand continued holding the bow taut.

"As touching as this conversation may be," the leader sneered, "I do not like being ignored. You are not showing me the proper courtesy, _peasant_."

Immediately, Takagi turned to him in surprise and fear. He fell to his knees and bowed before the samurai. "I beg your pardon, my lord samurai." He gazed up desperately. "Please forgive the rudeness of this ignorant peasant and these two young boys. We will surrender peacefully-"

"Will not!" Kyouta roared.

"-Please grant us amnesty as was promi-Ungh!" Takagi cried out mid-sentence as a katana plunged into his chest.

"Takeda-sempai!" Kojiro yelled. Kyouta looked on in shock.

"You waste my time." The samurai leader drawled, as he watched Takeda gurgle on the ground. "Disrespecting a samurai by ignoring him and wasting his time; both are crimes punishable by death."

Takeda's stared at him, wide-eyed in shock. "Th-the promise-"

"What makes you think a daimyo would feel any obligation to fulfil a promise made to a filthy, low-born peasant?" he replied mockingly. "For opposing our lord you shall meet the same fate as the rest of this ragtag band of rebels. We need to set an example for the villagers after all."

"The children," The dying man gasped. He clutched the leader's feet. "At least spare the chil-" He was cut off mid-sentence as the samurai stabbed him in the neck. "We shall see."

He leered at the boys. "So what do you say we do about these whelps?" he asked one of his subordinates. "They could entertain the men with their squealing."

Kyouta placed himself in front of Kojiro protectively. He realised the implication: the samurai wanted to torture them to death for his own enjoyment.

The other samurai shrugged. "I don't know, sir. They don't look like they'd provide much sport. But we could sell them at the next slave market." he suggested.

"That's a good idea." Another agreed. "The big one looks like he could do some heavy labour when he grows up. He'll fetch a good price."

"But the other one is wounded. Doesn't look like he'd fetch much money. Keeping him alive would be a waste." Said a third samurai.

"You're right. I'll finish him off." The first samurai drew his sword and approached Kojiro menacingly. Suddenly, he was pierced through the eye by an arrow. He was dead before he hit the ground.

"Ishida!" The leader yelled in outrage. He shifted his gaze to Kyouta, who was pulling another arrow from his quiver. "To hell with the slave market." he said savagely, "Kenta, kill them both."

The second samurai drew his sword and rushed at Kyouta, swinging at him before he could loose his arrow. Kyouta cursed and blocked the attack with his bow, only to have it chopped in half. He retreated desperately, trying to avoid the man's swings. His bow was useless now, and his dagger lay within its holster inside his burning tent. He had always been agile depite his size, but that would not save him now. He unwittingly backed into a tree. Trapped.

"This is the end for you, pesky brat." The samurai taunted, raising his sword to cut him down.

"GAH!"

But before he could strike, an axe buried itself in his back. Kyouta watched him fall wordlessly to the ground. Behind him stood Kojiro, holding his axe in his left hand.

"Kojiro!"

"Looks like we're even now, Kyouta." The older boy said grimly. Then he turned around to face the other samurai.

The leader was apoplectic with rage. "Why are two kids giving us this much trouble? Kill them!"

"I'll show you what a kid can do, you Bakufu scum!" Kojiro said viciously. He turned to Kyouta one last time. "Run away, Kyouta." He pleaded. "You're pretty fast, and you've got a lot of stamina. They won't be able to catch you in their armour."

"NO!" Kyouta yelled. "Don't, Kojiro!"

Kojiro smiled sadly. "Take care of yourself, Kyouta. I won't be able to watch your back anymore." Then he turned around, and the next moment he was pierced by several swords. Kyouta watched in horror as the samurai hacked away at his body even as he lay on the ground.

Finally, the leader looked up at Kyouta with a satisfied smile. "Finally. Let's finish with you."

As he approached, Kyouta thought of running, but he could not bring himself to abandon his dead friend's side. The leader raised his bloodied sword high above him, his eyes glinting maliciously. Kyouta closed his eyes and braced himself for the killing blow.

But it never came.

"AAAAAHHH!"

Kyouta opened his eyes to see a severed hand lying at his feet, still clutching its sword. He looked up in surprise. A white-cloaked figure stood between him and the samurai. It appeared to be a man of average height and build.

"You bastard!" The samurai leader cried, cradling his bloody stump. "You'll pay for that! Who do you think you are? This land is ruled by our daimyo. Samurai from other prefectures have no right to interfere."

"I am no samurai." The man replied, in a voice that was gentle, yet stern. He calmly sheathed his sword, ignoring his peril and the drawn blades of his opponents.

The leader sneered. "A Ronin then. I suppose these commoners hired you to help with their pathetic rebellion? You took your sweet time to show up, so they can't have paid you much."

The man shook his head. "I have no relation whatsoever to either side of this petty conflict. However," here his voice rose. "I cannot tolerate needless bloodshed. You held an overwhelming advantage over these rebels, yet you showed them no mercy, even those that surrendered. And now you wish to slaughter children?"

"Don't lecture us on ethics, Ronin!" The leader retorted. "Any man who dares defy a samurai shall pay with his life. That is the code of Bushido that is law throughout the Shogunate. You should know that well. Now step aside and we may just spare your life. Or do you intend to continue opposing us?" He drew his wakizashi with his left hand.

"Believe me when I say that I mean you no hostility whatsoever," the man replied, "But I will not allow you to harm this boy."

The leader's face contorted in rage. "Then you shall die with him!" He lunged at the man with his wakizashi.

In a split second, the man crouched into an odd stance that Kyouta did not recognise, and it was over before he could blink. He did not even see the man drawing his sword; all he saw was an arc of reflected moonlight as his blade sliced through armour, flesh and bone. Blood splattered everywhere as the samurai's dismembered body crashed to the ground. His companions looked on in shock.

"Mikado-sama is dead!"

"He killed the captain!"

"Get him!"

Kyouta heard the angry murmur of the samurai as they moved forward to avenge their leader.

What he saw in the following moments would be burned into his memory for the rest of his life. With superhuman speed, the cloaked man moved through the ranks of the samurai, cutting them down with deadly swiftness. Kyouta shrank back against the tree in fear and shock. He was no stranger to death; having spent a year among the rebels, killing and watching people kill. But he had never seen anyone kill with such ease before. A sick feeling rose in his stomach.

"Who the hell are you?!" A samurai yelled in desperation, as he faced the man with his two remaining companions.

"Who am I?" The man paused briefly. "Since I am about to end your life, the least I could do for you is to give you the respect of knowing my name. I am Hiko-" He parried the first man's strike and slashed open his stomach, "Seijuro-" he decapitated the second, "the Twelfth." he finished, grabbing the last samurai and spearing him through the chest. "Carry that knowledge with you into the afterlife, so that you will know how to address me when we meet again."

When the last of his opponents had fallen to the ground, Hiko wiped the blood from his sword and peered upwards at the crescent moon. "These are dark times." he mused sadly. "Even the moon appears to look down mockingly on this diseased world. And yet," he looked around at the glittering stars, "when so much beauty surrounds us, even amidst this bloodshed, a man cannot wholly lose hope." Then he turned around, and Kyouta saw his face for the first time.

He had black hair, knotted at the top, with long side locks that reached his shoulders. He was not old; his face bore the features of a man in his prime, yet his expression and demeanour conveyed a sense of great maturity, as if he were aged beyond his years by his cares. Most striking of all were his eyes. As he peered kindly at Kyouta through his half-rimmed glasses, Kyouta perceived that many memories lay behind those deep brown circles, which were filled with sadness and pity. Kyouta noted that underneath his cloak, he wore a gi and hakama that looked like an odd cross between a samurai's robe and a Buddhist priest's garb.

"Are you hurt?" He asked gently.

Kyouta shook his head. _Not physically._

He moved closer, and Kyouta felt himself pressing his back against the tree.

"I cannot say that you have nothing to fear from me," the man said, "But can I assure you that I will not harm you any more than I have through my actions."

Slowly, Kyouta allowed himself to relax. Hiko gazed at him searchingly. "What are you doing here? A battlefield is no place for a child."

"I'm not a child!" Kyouta replied indignantly, overcoming his fear. "I'm fourteen years old."

Hiko continued giving him his searching gaze. "No, you are not. You merely look fourteen. You are mature beyond your years, but you are still an adolescent."

Kyouta blinked in surprise. How had the man seen through his lie? Because of his size, he had always succeeded in fooling people about his age.

"Either way," Hiko continued, "one so young should should not have to bear arms. What would your parents think?"

"I don't know." Kyouta muttered grimly. "They're dead."

Hiko widened his eyes slightly, his only sign of surprise. "Dead?"

Kyouta turned away from his gaze. "My parents were sculptors. We weren't rich, but we never had to go hungry either. Our village was better off than most. Until," his voice rose, "until the daimyo interfered. It was a year ago. He wanted to raise our taxes because he and his samurai weren't getting enough revenue to live as lavishly as they wanted."

"That would be illegal." Hiko observed. In the Shogunate, taxes on the peasantry were imposed at fixed rates that did not account for factors like inflation. This had been the subject of many disputes between poorer samurai landowners and their well-to-do peasant subjects.

"It was." Kyouta agreed. "And the village resisted. We threatened to inform the Shogun. The daimyo didn't like it. Then one night," here his voice choked, "when we were sleeping, the samurai raided the village." He looked up at Hiko. "They pillaged and burnt everything. Most of us were killed. My house was burnt down with my parents inside." Tears streamed down his face.

There was a shocked silence, then he continued. "A few of us survived by fleeing into the forest. We started a rebellion to oppose the samurai. We had the sympathy of the other villages, and before long we'd built up a small army." His eyes smouldered. "I joined it because I had nowhere else to go. And because I wanted to make the samurai pay for what they did. I've always been big for my age, so they let me tag along. We had neither the manpower nor the weaponry to fight the samurai head on, so we attacked from the shadows. And that's how we've been living. Until now...." He trailed off.

Hiko remained silent. He shook his head. "We live in afflicted times." he lamented. "The smell of blood is all too common, now and ever. Perhaps that is how it will always remain. There is no cure for this disease that plagues our race. Even so," Kyouta looked up. "The answer does not lie in avenging yourself with more bloodshed. Violence only begets more violence. The cycle of revenge and murder is an endless one."

"The samurai killed my parents!" Kyouta yelled angrily. "I had to avenge them!"

"Would your parents have wanted you to avenge them?" Hiko asked quietly. "The dead do not desire revenge, only happiness for the living."

"Shut up! You know nothing! You'll never understand how I feel." The boy's tear-streaked face contorted in anger.

"I do understand." Said Hiko, and for a brief moment, Kyouta saw loss and regret flickering in his eyes. Nevertheless he wrenched the katana from the dismembered arm at his feet and pointed it towards Hiko. "Stay away from me!"

"Calm down, boy." Hiko said gently, trying to pacify him. "I did not mean to hurt-"

"So what I'm doing is wrong? So all their lives were in vain? You're no different from the samurai! You're a murderer too!" Consumed by loss and anger, Kyouta swung the sword wildly. Then he tripped on a tree root, lost his balance and fell. Everything went black.

XXX

Kyouta did not know how long he had been sleeping when he finally opened his eyes. He remembered dreaming about fire and blood and gleaming swords. He suppressed a shudder, and pulled himself to his feet with a yawn. Then he saw the burnt ruins and the corpses and the dried blood. And he remembered, with horror, that it hadn't been a dream. _Why did I pass out?_

"So you are awake. You haven't very slept long." He turned around to see a cloaked figure standing some distance away._ Hiko. _"You had fainted earlier." He explained, seeing the confusion in Kyouta's eyes . "It was probably from the shock. You've been unconscious for three hours."

At his feet was a man-sized pit. "What are you doing... sir?" He asked uneasily.

"You can already see the answer." Hiko replied calmly. "I came too late to prevent their deaths, so the least I could is to lay them to rest." He looked at Kyouta. "Will you help me?"

Kyouta thought of his comrades and of Kojiro, killed like animals and left to rot on the grass. "Yes."

"Thank you." Hiko handed him a shovel and pointed him to a nearby grave, beside which a man's body had been laid. "You may begin with that one."

Kyouta stared at the body. It belonged to the samurai leader. He turned to Hiko in anger and shock. "This is one of the samurai!" he exclaimed disbelievingly.

"I know." Hiko responded, as if he had anticipated Kyouta's reaction.

"He's a murderer! He destroyed my village! He killed my friends! He doesn't deserve to be buried!"

Hiko looked at him. "He may indeed have been a cruel man who oppressed and killed peasants mercilessly," he said, "but he was also a brave samurai who faithfully served his lord and performed his duties. And he, too, had friends and family whom he loved, and who will mourn him now that he is gone." he added in a sad tone. "Ultimately, whatever we do in life, we are all human beings, first and foremost. A life is a life, whether it belongs to a murderer or a saint. And it must at least be given the respect of a proper burial. In any case," He looked at Kyouta sternly. "When he was alive, this man may have been a murderer, but now he is nothing more than a corpse. Hating him now will not bring your friends and family back, nor will it bring you any happiness."

Kyouta remained silent, contemplating Hiko's words. After a few minutes, he wordlessly pushed the man's body into the grave and began filling it with his shovel.

XXX

By the time they finished, dawn had arrived and the morning sun rose, bathing the bloodstained grass in an amber light. Kyouta and Hiko stood over the graves amidst the burnt remains of the campsite. Hiko chanted two funeral prayers, a Buddhist one for the samurai and a Shinto prayer for the peasants. "May you find peace in the afterlife." he finished. Then he spotted Kyouta placing a small object on one of the graves.

"What is that stone for?" Kyouta heard Hiko approaching behind him. He stared below at the slab of rock on which Kojiro's name was carved.

Kyouta closed his eyes in memory. "He was the only real friend I've ever had." he said quietly. "I've never been good at getting along with other people. He protected me from bullies when we were younger, and we were always together after that. When I joined the rebels he came with me, even though he still had a mother left. And he saved my life a few times even after that. I have some skill with carving on stone. I thought I'd at least mark his grave..." Neither of them spoke for a little while.

"What will you now?" Hiko asked finally. "The rebellion has been crushed."

"I don't know." Kyouta conceded. "I can still fight... there are other rebel groups in the country. But what difference would it make? They can't win against the samurai, can they? They're outnumbered and ill-equipped... but what can I do on my own?"

Then he looked at Hiko. "But you're different. You're strong. Stronger than any samurai I've ever seen. Why don't you rise up against the Shogunate? If someone like you joined one of the rebelling prefectures, it would make a real difference."

Hiko merely smiled. "That is precisely why I can never take sides in any political conflict. Any side that I join would inevitably be the victor."

"But that would be a good thing!" Kyouta yelled. "You could bring down the Shogunate! You could create a new era for the people!"

Hiko shook his head. "A long time ago," he said, "when I was young, I thought like you did. I believed that by serving a just cause, my sword could end conflict and build an era of peace and happiness. But I was wrong. When all is said and done a sword is a tool of destruction, not salvation. A swordsman cannot build a new era by shedding blood. All he can do is to protect the people he sees before him, one-by-one." He gave Kyouta a slight smile. "That is why I wander the country as a Ronin, so that in my own small way, I can help mend the world's hurts."

He smiled gently. "And I do so as a free sword; one that serves no cause other than that of justice. For a sword that is bound to a lord or ideal, no matter how noble, can never truly serve to protect people from oppression. That is something I learned from bitter experience." He absent-mindedly ran a hand over the hilt of his katana, and for the first time Kyouta noticed that he carried two swords. Had he been a samurai once?

He looked down at Kyouta. "You probably already know this, but not far to the north there is a path that leads to the nearest village. A stout boy such as yourself should have no trouble finding work there. Go there and keep yourself away from war and conflict. If you wish to honour your family and your comrades, you should live on and cherish their memory instead of throwing your life away in vain. " He turned to leave.

"Wait!"

Hiko turned around to see the boy standing firm, his dark eyes glaring at Hiko unwaveringly.

"Take me with you." he said, "If only a free sword can save people from suffering, then I'll be a free sword too. Take me with you and teach me your kenjutsu."

Hiko raised an eyebrow. "You're too young."

"I'm old enough to have killed people."

"With a bow, not a sword."

"I can learn. I'm stronger than I look, and I've always been a good learner."

Hiko simply shook his head. "Out of the question." he said plainly.

Kyouta intensified his glare. "Then I'll keep following you till you agree. I'm pretty fast, and I don't tire easily."

Hiko narrowed his eyes, his only visible sign of anger. "You do not know what it is you ask for, boy. A free sword fights only for justice. He does not kill for personal satisfaction. He does not seek fame and glory, or wealth, or power, or companionship or even remembrance. You will lead a life of loneliness and poverty and constant danger, haunted by remorse and the scorn of others."

"Suits me just fine." Kyouta replied firmly. "I don't give a shit about money and power. And I've never really cared what other people think of me. All I want is the strength to protect innocent people from the scum who make life difficult for them. Samurai, bandits, yakuza, it doesn't matter."

For a while, they remained there, Hiko gazing at him contemplatively. "What is your name?" He asked finally.

"Kyouta."

"Kyouta." Hiko repeated. He smiled slightly. "That is a good name. It suits you." He stepped forward, and with a sigh, placed a hand on his shoulder. "Very well, Kyouta. From today, you shall be my apprentice."

XXX------------------------------------------------XXX-----------------------------------------------XXX-----------------------------------------------XXX------------------------------------------------XXX-----------------------------------------------XXX

Kyouta stirred. _Did I fall asleep? _He looked up to see the moon shining directly overhead. It was past midnight. His mind made up, he stood up and wordlessly made his way back to the shrine. Inside the Buddhist section, he heard a faint humming sound from the prayer room. Not wanting to disturb his master's meditation, he quietly made his way to his own room and settled down into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Glossary:

Sempai - Respectful term for a senior.

Ronin - Masterless samurai.

Gi and hakama: Japanese upper and lower body garments.

Kyouta: 'Great strength'

* * *

Author's note: Whew! It's finally finished. This middle chapter is the main reason this fic took so long to publish. Yesterday I re-wrote most of the earlier draft and today I spent the entire morning writing the last 2000 words. The thing about about Hiko 13/Kyouta's story is that I wanted it to have parallels to Kenshin's and at the same time be different. The specifics will be explained later. Some will notice that Kyouta's dialogue seems too mature for his age. I'm afraid I just couldn't find simpler words to convey everything he had to say. I suppose we can chalk it up to the fact that Kyouta's especially bright and mature for his age.

Please review. Criticisms are welcome.

EDIT: I really should spend more time editing my drafts before I publish them. I ran this chapter through my mind a few times and the dialogue in the second half seemed amateurishly written. I've re-written it now. Hiko 12 is a Buddhist now, not Shinto as I originally intended. As an ex-samurai, I realise he was more likely to practice Buddhism, the Shogunate's main religion. As for why he houses in an abandoned Shinto shrine, in those days the two religions were closely connected and many shrines were _jinguji_, which means they also housed a small Buddhist temple inside. And it wasn't uncommon for smaller_ jinguji_ to have a solitary Buddhist priest who maintained the buildings of both faiths._  
_


	3. III: Mastery and understanding

* * *

**Chapter III: Mastery and understanding**

* * *

Kyouta was up at the crack of dawn.

He made his way to the training grounds. As he waited for his master to arrive, he idly admired the view from the parapet of the shrine courtyard. The thick forests that covered the slopes of the mountain were dimly illuminated by the first rays of the sun.

"Summer mornings are indeed beautiful, aren't they?"

Kyouta turned around to see the cloaked figure of Hiko approaching him from the shrine.

"You have dark bags under your eyes. You haven't slept well, have you?"

Normally Kyouta would have taken offence at this affront to his good looks. For now he calmly replied, "You haven't slept much either, Shishou."

"It is always good to have an early start." Hiko replied pleasantly. "And at least I am not nursing a headache as well."

Kyouta rubbed his aching forehead in frustration. "How did you know?"

Hiko smiled. "Your face shows the classic symptoms of what is commonly known as 'a hangover'. Been consuming too much of my special sake, I see."

"You shouldn't have left it there in the first place." Kyouta shot back.

"I thought some sake in moderation would help soothe your mind. It's your own fault you couldn't control your vice." With that Hiko's face became serious. "Have you found your answer?"

Kyouta contemplated his reply. "I do not know how to perform the succession technique," he admitted, "but I do know that I have come too far to fail now. I _will_ succeed."

"If you fail nevertheless, you will die." Hiko warned.

"No." Kyouta shook his head. "If I die now I won't be able to help anyone with my sword. All this will have been for nothing. I will not die. _I have no reason to die._"

Hiko gazed into his pupil's eyes searchingly. "You seem to have understood." he said finally. Then he gave Kyouta a sad smile. "Either way, this will be my final duty to you as your Shishou."

He drew his sword and closed his eyes in silent prayer. The next moment, Kyouta felt Hiko's ki flare up to an extent he had never sensed before. He could feel it radiating around Hiko in waves. The fallen leaves blowing around them were shredded when they flew near him. When he opened his eyes again, they were glaring at Kyouta in an expression that brimmed with unrestrained killing intent.

Kyouta shrank back in fear and surprise. He had never seen his master in such a fearsome form before. Was he holding back all this while? _No, that's not it...he's pushing past his own limits so that he can attack me with everything he has..._

"Prepare yourself."

Before Kyouta could react, Hiko rushed towards him at the full extent of his Hiten Mitsurugi Godspeed. Kyouta saw the familiar nine pronged strike of the Kuzu Ryu Sen, deadlier than ever before. As death approached him, memories from his short life flashed before his eyes.

_"Oversized freak! He think he's better than everyone else just 'cause he's bigger!"_

_"You and I gotta stick together from now on, eh, Kyouta?"_

_"You're a tough kid. If you want to avenge your parents that badly, we'll take you in."  
_

_"I can't just et you go off and get yourself killed! If you're going to be a rebel and an outlaw then I'm coming with you.'"_

_"Take care of yourself, Kyouta. I won't be able to watch your back anymore."_

_"If I die now I won't be able to help anyone with my sword. __**I have no reason to die**."_

His mind made up, his body reacted on its own. In one fleeting instant, he instinctively crouched into the battojutsu stance, brought his left foot forward with enough force to sink it into the ground, and drew his nodachi in a lightning-fast battojutsu so powerful that he could feel it cutting the very air in front of him in half.

"AMAKAKERU RYU NO HIRAMEKI!"

It was over in a split second. The two combatants paused, waiting for the outcome. After a moment, Kyouta realised that he couldn't feel any wounds anywhere on his body. He was still alive. _Did I do it...?_

Then he turned to his outstretched sword and his excitement turned to horror when he realised that _the blade was covered in blood_.

"Well done."

Kyouta turned around to see his master standing behind him, sword in hand. The back of his gi sported a long diagonal cut from shoulder to waist.

"You wanted the strength of the Hiten Mitsurugi to protect others from that which you suffered. And as you grew older, though your pride and arrogance grew, that goal did not change. Your intentions remained as pure as ever..." Hiko's voice grew weaker with each word. As he spoke he slowly turned around to face his pupil, and Kyouta saw that there was an identical cut across the front side of his body. As realisation dawned, horror rose from the depths of his heart.

"Do...do not blame yourself." Hiko stammered. He closed his eyes. "This is the ultimate destiny of master and student in passing down the succ-" Before he could finish, the cut across his torso opened, tearing his it apart. Blood gushed from his body as he fell to the ground.

"SHISHOU!"

Forgetting everything else, Kyouta dropped his sword and rushed to the side his master, who now lay in a pool of his own blood. He knelt down frantically. _What have I done...what will I do? I can't just stand to watch him die!_

But there was nothing he could do. Hiko's torso was thoroughly ripped open from left to right. _Bone, muscle, organs..._There was no way he would survive such a wound.

"Leave it..." To his shock, Hiko was still conscious. He was staring upwards at the sky through his broken glasses. His face was calm and serene, as if he were far removed from the pain of his body. "My time has come."

"No.. no.. no! Shishou, you can't die...!" Kyouta cried in anguish. His eyes stung, and he fought to hold back the tears welling up inside. He couldn't show weakness at a time like this...

"It's... all right to cry..." said Hiko in a faint voice. "Not all tears are evil... come closer..." Kyouta leaned his head towards his master's, and Hiko whispered into his ear, "The uppermost cape pocket..." With these words, he went silent and closed his eyes for the last time.

For a long time, Kyouta knelt beside the body of the man he had come to see like a father, lost in horror and shock. The tears ran freely down his face. He stared at his hands, drenched with his master's had completed his training. He had mastered the succession technique... at the cost of his master's life. With a cry of frustration, he brought his mighty fists down on the ground, pounding holes in the soil._ I didn't ask for this! I didn't want this! If only I knew! Why... why...  
_

Slowly, he mastered his emotions and forced himself to calm down. _Crying won't bring him back. And there is more to this that I need to know... _He remembered Hiko's last words. _The uppermost cape pocket._ He made his way to his master's white cape, sprawled across the stone bench, and searched the smallest pocket, just below the collar. Inside was a little note. Kyouta unfolded it to reveal a message in his master's neat hand.

_Kyouta,_

_If you are reading this letter now then it means that I have fulfilled my duty and departed for the next world. I will not say "do not grieve", but I beseech you not to think badly of yourself or to blame yourself for your actions. The fault lies with me for not telling you what would happen. I kept it secret from you because it had to be that way._

_The Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki is the Hiten Mitsurugi__'s ultimate technique. But power always has a price, and in order to master this final technique the pupil must exchange the life of his predecessor. That is the ultimate destiny of master and pupil in Hiten Mitsurugi__-Ryū__'__. That is how I learnt it from my master, and he from his master before and so on since the days of Hiko Seijuro II. _

_This final lesson serves another important purpose: to teach the student about the value of human life. No matter what a swordsman' intentions are, kenjutsu is the art of killing and the sword is a weapon of murder. Those who follow the path of Hiten Mitsurugi are those that destroy life in order to protect life. Our swords will tear asunder the lives of countless men in our lifetimes. Yet we must never forget that __good or evil, they are all human beings first and foremost. That is why__ we must always respect each life even as we end it. __And we must be willing to bear the burden of every life we take till the end of our days, the guilt and the regret._

_And now, having realised this truth by taking my life, you will now also take my white mantle, my title and my place as the Thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi__-Ryū__'. I have given up my life, now I must ask you to give up your name. _

_In any case, I think it is better that I died at your hand, giving you the strength to carry on my life's mission, rather than to die a crippled old man, unable to wield a sword to defend anyone._

_One day fate will guide you to one who is worthy of inheriting your strength and your burden, just as it guided me to you. You will take him under your wing and teach him as I have taught you, and when the time comes you, too, must willingly cast away your life to help him realise his own._

_But till then, remember what I have taught you: with great power comes great responsibility. The power of Hiten Mitsurugi must only ever be used by a free sword, bound to neither cause nor master. That is the only way it can bring justice to the weak and the oppressed. If it is allowed to become a tool of other men's purposes, it will achieve __ nothing but meaningless slaughter that will only increase the sufferings of the common man._

_Keep these ideals in your heart and you shall not fail in your purpose. We shall meet again. But for now, farewell, _

_Your former Shishou, Hiko Seijuro XII_

_PS: You may find the cloak a little small for your size after being worn by me for so many years. Thankfully, when I had it altered for myself, I had an an additional flap added so that the size and length could be varied. I thought it would save future Hikos the trouble of an extra visit to the tailor._

Kyouta smiled slightly at the last line.

He carefully folded the note and slipped it into his pocket. His heart was still heavy with guilt and sorrow. But his mind was now clear and light. He knew what he had to do. Slowly, he undid the straps that held his training weights in place and shed them, one by one. Then he carefully lifted the white cloak and wrapped it around himself, adjusting the straps underneath. As the hidden springs locked into place, it seemed to him that a great burden had been placed on his shoulders, even though the restraining force felt no greater than that of his old weights._ Shishou must have made me wear the weights in preparation for this..._

Kyouta buried his master in the southern part of the courtyard and recited a Buddhist funeral hymn from one of the shrine's prayer scrolls over his grave. He had never been a religious person, and he doubted he would do such a thing for anyone else. But he would at least bury them. He remembered Hiko's words from their first meeting. _'A life is a life, whether it belongs to a murderer or a saint.' Or a heroic swordmaster. _

As the morning passed and the sun rose high in the east, Kyouta stood in silent contemplation over Hiko's grave. _'The course of your __life shall be determined by tomorrow's test__,' _his master had said the day before. He sighed, reflecting on their truthfulness.

Kyouta had no further doubts about what he would do. _'Destroy life in order to protect life.' _Hiko had bluntly described the path that would await him as a master of the Hiten Mitsurugi. It was not something that would bring him any measure of joy, perhaps not even satisfaction. He still had a choice. He could lay down his sword and walk away from bloodshed, like his master had advised him many years ago. But to give up now would mean that his life had been in vain. That the deaths of his parents, his comrades and his master had all been in vain.

No. He would not give up. He would lead the harsh life of a Hiten Mitsurugi master. He would wander the country, alone and homeless. He would use his sword to help people. He would kill in order to protect. He would respect the lives of his opponents and bury their bodies. He would allow himself to feel the guilt and regret for every man he killed, and he would carry that burden with him till he died. And he would all this as a free sword, one who served no cause other than justice. He would avoid needless bloodshed and shun the meaningless conflicts that dotted the land.

"Shishou," he started, gazing at the gravestone into which he had carved his master's name, "You saved my life, raised me and taught me the way of the sword, and you sacrificed your own life so that I could attain that which I had always wanted. " He bowed in deference. "Now you are no longer here to guide me, and I must walk the path you showed me alone. Although I shall regret this deed of mine forever, I will not let your death be in vain. I do not think that I will ever be half the swordsman you were, Shishou, but I will try."

He gazed at the sheathed sword at his side. It was a nodachi. It had originally been a shrine offering that they found hidden in the storeroom, presumably to keep it safe from plunderers. Two years ago Hiko had given it to him as a present for his genpuku. _'The kami would prefer it be wielded to protect their followers rather than gathering dust here.' _he had said. When Kyouta complained about the lack of grip offered by the _shirasaya_ hilt, Hiko simply said that it would help him in controlling his growing strength._ I wonder what he thought of the fact that his own gift would be used to end his life..._

He drew it from his obi, sheath and all, and held it out horizontally in front of him, over his master's grave. "But before I leave, Shishou, I must take one more thing from you besides your life, as you had asked. From today, I renounce my old life and my old name." He drew himself up to his full height, standing proudly, his white cape billowing in the breeze. "From today, I am Hiko Seijuro the Thirteenth."

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Hiko adjusted his cape and secured his sword in its sheath. His preparations were complete. His burden was light; he had only taken what he would need for the road. Breakfast had been an uncomfortable affair; he had barely eaten anything. For some reason whatever he ate or drank gave a coppery taste, oddly reminiscent of blood.

Hiko walked through the shrine premises one last time. Every room held its own memories, relics from the life he was leaving behind. The prayer hall where his master meditated, the study room where he read Buddhist scriptures, the room where they studied poetry and philosophy(this Hiko had never quite developed an interest in either), the entrance hall where they practised kenjutsu when the weather was too harsh, its walls covered with sheets of paper bearing the calligraphy his master made for a living...

When he emerged from the shrine, the morning was already old. The summer sun glared down from its high position. He closed the wooden doors and made a final round of the courtyard, admiring the scenery from the parapet. Earlier, he had noticed only the forests that covered the mountain slopes. Now, gazing more intently, he spotted the tiny shapes of houses and little pillars of smoke on the plains beyond. Towns and villages that he had never been to. Perhaps soon he would know them better.

He uncorked his master's last jug of sake and took a gulp. It tasted as sweet as before. Finally, he walked in the direction of the gate.

He paused when he came under the wooden arch. He gazed at the worn stairway that ran down the mountain slope with a little hesitation. He had been down that route many times, either for exercise or on visits to the village at the base of the mountain when they obtained their supplies. But this was different. This time he would not return.

He gave the old shrine a final glance. Its discoloured walls were covered with moss and creepers, its lawn unkempt and overgrown. It looked no different from how it had always been.

Then for a moment, Hiko thought that he could see a robed figure standing on the threshold. Its right hand was raised in a gesture of blessing. He perceived what appeared to be a smile on its face.

Then the moment passed, and the figure vanished. Hiko blinked. Had it been a trick of the light?

He shook his head, smiled and raised the sake jug in his right hand in a farewell gesture. He turned around, and all his doubts gone, made his way down the stone steps, never looking back.

Thus it was that Hiko Seijuro XIII began his descent into the diseased world.

X---------------------------------------X----------------------------------------------X-------------------------------------------X------------------------------------------X------------------------------------------X------------------------------------------X

"Shishou?"

Hiko stirred, hearing the familiar voice calling out behind him.

He turned his head to see his young pupil standing behind him with a look of concern. "You didn't return home for supper tonight. So I was worried..."

Hiko turned his attention to the sake cup that was waiting in his hand. He took a sip from it. It still tasted good. "The sake tastes especially sweet tonight." he observed.

"What?" Kenshin was understandably puzzled.

Hiko re-filled his cup. "Spring brings cherry blossoms to comfort you; the summer, stars; the harvest moon in fall, and the powdered snow in winter. All of these things, and the promise of them, is what makes sake taste delicious." he explained. He raised the cup to his lips. "If it still tastes bad, that's proof that something is wrong inside you." he reflected grimly.

_I remember now...that is why I am so fond of sake...because in those days it was the one thing that didn't taste like blood._

He smiled at the confusion on Kenshin's face. "One day you will understand this, and then I will pour sake for both of us." With that, he emptied the cup.

_Yes...one day we will meet again, Shishou._

Then he resumed his admiration of the starry sky. Kenshin followed his gaze. He sat down on a rock and leaned his sword against his shoulder. He couldn't understand what his master was saying, but he was right about one thing: the stars looked beautiful in summer.

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Glossary:

Shirasaya - Meaning 'white sheath'. A type of sword mounting where the blade is encased in a plain, featureless wooden hilt and scabbard. Historically, shirasaya mountings were only used for swords that were meant to be stored for a long time without seeing use; like sacred offerings housed in shrines. It wasn't very practical for combat, since a smooth hilt without any wrappings would not provide a good grip, especially if your palms got sweaty. Nevertheless in the anime/manga, Hiko's sword is shown as a shirasaya.

Obi - Sash.

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Author's note: At long last it's finished! I've never taken so much time to write a fic as I have for this one. For all those who were waiting for this chapter for the past week, I thank you for your patience.

About this chapter, the idea of making this origin story an extended flashback was the first idea I had for this fic, when I was reading the scene in the manga where Hiko contemplates the taste of sake in front of young Kenshin. All in all I put more thought into the story, settings and characters in this fic than I have for any other so far, and I'll be posting more detailed notes soon. There's quite a bit of history behind it all.

Read and review. If you have any suggestions about how I could have written this better, do not hesitate to give them.


	4. IV: The Footnotes

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**The Footnotes:**

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Though I imagine not many would be interested in reading this, I had earlier promised that I'd include a more detailed account of the creative process that went into the characters, story and setting used for Hiko's backstory. It was such an extensive process that i had to publish it. But they were too long to be included in the Author's notes, so I added a separate chapter for them. I'll list them point-wise for each of the principal characters. Note that I tend to get carried away with my explanations.

I: Hiko Seijuro XII:

1)The first thing I had decided for Hiko's backstory is that his master should contrast him in a similar manner to how he contrasted Kenshin. That meant, first of all, that he would have a physique that was diminutive compared to his pupil.

I personally never liked the subplot Watsuki tacked on at the end of the manga that said Kenshin's body was deteriorating thanks to the Hiten Mitsurugi and that he would no longer be able to use it by the age of 33. I get the feeling he wrote that largely to symbolise that Kenshin had left his violent past behind and was living in times of peace. Nevertheless it's hard for me to accept the explanation that the Hiten Mitsurugi was meant to be used only by men like Hiko XIII; it just seems too much of a coincidence to think that all 13 Hikos were hulking giants with bodies resembling pro wrestlers or bodybuilders.

That's why I decided that at least a few of the Hikos were normal sized men. They could slow down the deterioration(as Hiko XII has done) by exercising and packing on as much muscle as possible on their smaller frames(If you've noticed, not only is Kenshin small, but he also has practically no muscle mass. Kaoru looks more muscular than him. Maybe this is the part of his training that he skipped out on when he left to join the Ishin Shishi, seeing how he already knew all the techniques apart from the succession technique.). And they wouldn't have to worry about not being able to use the Hiten Mitsurugi in their later years, because by then they'd already have passed on the techniques and died. I decided to have him at the same age was Hiko XIII was when he passed on the succession technique(43).

2)Hiko XII also contrasts his pupil in terms of personality. His nature is closer to Kenshin than Hiko XIII. He's polite, humble and soft-spoken(but still strict when it comes to training). He's stoic in nature, though those who are close to him will see a softer side of him. While Kyouta has more rough tastes like sake, pottery and sculpting, his master appreciates finer things in life like poetry, philosophy and calligraphy(it's intended that Hiko XIII got his philosophical side from his master). He is also somewhat religious, as shown.

By the way, the part where one of the thugs asks Hiko who he is has a special status for the Hikos. Hiko XIII replied "No point introducing myself to one who is about to die." The Hiko Seijuro from the oneshot manga _Crescent Moon in the Warring States_(set in the same continuity but in an earlier era) replied "One who has become your enemy." Naturally, I decided that this scene **had** to be there for Hiko XII as well, with his own unique reply. Seeing as how he's supposed to be more polite, he actually does reveal his name, though it doesn't do his opponents any good.

3)As for his backstory; originally I had intended him to be a young Shinto priest-in-training who was saved from a massacre by the previous Hiko and raised as a swordsman, hence accounting for his religious side. Afterwards I decided that at some point he served as a samurai. Ultimately, I discarded his priestly origin for the samurai one.

In the current incarnation, he is the eldest son of a respectable samurai family who quit his feudal lord's service at the age of 18 because he could not bring himself to be part of the oppression the samurai class inflicted on the peasantry. He became a Ronin and wandered the land seeking a purpose. Soon after beginning his wandering, he encountered a group of samurai abusing their authority on some peasants. He tried to intervene, but was branded a traitor, attacked and seriously injured. He was saved by a passing old monk who took him to his shrine. When he regained consciousness and told the monk his story the latter asked him whether he was seeking forgiveness (for the deeds he committed as a samurai). He replied that he wanted a way to redeem himself, but as a lone man he lacked the power to protect the weak. Then the monk reveals himself as Hiko Seijuro XI(who retired from life as a swordsman and pledged to spend his remaining says in the service of god after his previous pupil failed the final test and died) and offers to give him the power he needs. So the reason he later chooses to settle down at a shrine with Kyouta is because it reminds him of his own training days.

In hindsight, Hiko XII's backstory came out as more interesting than Hiko XIII's. Maybe I'll write a fic about him someday.

II: Hiko Seijuro XIII/Kyouta:

1)The only things we know about Kenshin's master from the manga are that he's rude, arrogant and dislikes human contact. And that he tends to get philosophical about matters related to life and death, as if he's seen a lot in relation those things. The first thing I decided on was his name. I wanted a name that meant either 'great strength' or 'strong heart'. I received a few helpful suggestions from **raberbagirl**, **ScarredSwordHeart** and someone else, but ultimately decided on 'Kyouta', which I derived from Kenshin's original name 'Shinta'. When written right it means 'great strength'. It doesn't sound authentic, but it's the only name that sounded appealing to me.

2)I decided that Kyouta's backstory should have parallels with Shinta's and at the same time be different in the details. I puzzled out the various details through careful consideration. Firstly, he was only 24 years old when he met Kenshin, I concluded that like Kenshin/Shinta he was likely still a child when he met _his_ master. Taking up a sword at such a young age meant that he was likely an orphan like Shinta. By extension I decided to make him the sole survivor of a massacre. Since Shinta's party was massacred by bandits, I decided to have Kyouta's camp massacred by their opposites; namely the Shogunate samurai. I also wanted him to have some past history as a fighter before he met Hiko XII, so I copied from Sanosuke's history and made him a child soldier in a rebel group.

3)Finally, the scene where he muses on the taste of sake in front of Kenshin was my initial inspiration for this fic, and I decided to make the whole fic a flashback for Hiko rather than just writing it in a normal structure.

4)One last thing; in many fics Hiko XIII's sword is assumed to be the _Fuyutsuki_('Winter Moon') nodachi that was wielded by the character Hiko from _Crescent Moon in the Warring States_. While the precursor Hiko did claim that _Fuyutsuki _was an heirloom of Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryū, and its appearance was identical to Hiko XIII's sword, there's no indication in the manga that this is true, and moreover I can't believe that such a sword would survive centuries of non-stop battle and still be in a useable condition by the time it came into Hiko XIII's hands. So here I've made no mention of the _Fuyutsuki; _Hiko XIII uses an ordinary, nameless nodachi.

Final notes: The main reason I wrote this fic was because apart from** The Path to the Sword** by **Kat** I had never read a satisfactory origin story for Hiko. I had hoped to write a high calibre fic, but this has ultimately failed to meet my expectations. My mental ideas of Hiko, his master and their story have changed considerably from the time I finished this fic. I intend to write a second origin story sometime in the future. Thank you for reading this.

I would very much like to know what your opinions of this fic are and whether you have any suggestions for how it could have been done better. So please review.


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